


Appetite

by KendraPendragon



Series: My tumblr writing [65]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, mythea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 03:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16277330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraPendragon/pseuds/KendraPendragon
Summary: Often enough Mycroft Holmes feels like a babysitter for his younger brother. But clearing all the security footage of him and his new girlfriend shagging in semi-public places bring this feeling to a whole new level. Anthea takes the latest footage as inspiration.





	Appetite

“Sir, we’ve got another one.”

Mycroft groaned and closed his eyes, once again wondering what he had done to deserve this family he was born into. The knowing giggle coming from Anthea wasn’t helpful. She definitely had too much fun watching him suffer. The delicious scent of her mysterious perfume (to this day he hadn’t figured out all the flowers in the exquisite composition. One of life’s few mysteries) reaching his nose made him open his eyes.

Just in time to watch the camera feed of his little brother defiling Dr. Hooper in an elevator -  _again_.

“The fourteenth time this month. One might think by now they had sated their…appetite for each other.”

Anthea giggled, pulling the tablet away when Myroft waved it off.

“It’s called passion, sir. You wouldn’t understand.”

He huffed and almost,  _almost_ , protested.

 

Better not engage. He’d lost too many verbal sparring duels with that woman already.

 

“Whatever it is, it has to stop. Both of us are way too busy to tidy up after them. I’ll talk to him. Erase the file and pay the security employee who had to watch this…embarrassment.”

“Oh, it’s not embarrassing at all. They’re both quite good at it.”

 

 _Do not engage_ , Mycroft sternly reminded himself and waved her away, returning his attention to the Jemen report.

The click-clack of her heels announced her retreat.

“You know,” she said at the door, elegant fingers curled around the door handle, “we could add our own feed to the collection.”

Unusual for his brain, he needed a second to comprehend.

 

His mind immediately activated emergency protocol 69 and as it fought the surging arousal and the very unwelcome, very sensual images flooding his head, his eyes darted to the desk, than to her.

Anthea smiled one of those smiles that always managed to rouse his libodo from its slumber, worsening his condition.

“I think, just like your brother and Dr. Hooper, we’ve danced this dance for far too long… _darling_.”

 

A burst of warmth and longing in his chest, his heart drumming against his rib cage, trying to beat its way over to hers.

 

At the parting of his lips her eyes softened and her smile became tender, setting off another wave of emotions.

 

They shared one of these moments when ranks and jobs and stubbornly set rules fell away and they both just  _knew_  what they truly meant to each other.

 

As usual she waited, ever patiently, for him to destroy the mental wall he had built so long ago, to take one tiny step in her direction.

 

Sherringford didn’t only impact his brother. To watch Sherlock almost lose the woman he had loved for years, to see him destroy her coffin with such fierce desperation…

 

_Emotional context, indeed._

 

“I’ll think about it… _darling_ ”

Damn, he wished his voice hadn’t trembled…

Anthea smirked, nodded and started to close the door. It was almost shut, it was almost over, when she pushed it open again.

Their blue eyes met. Mycroft’s heart skipped a beat.

“The desk would have been my choice, too.”

 

Protocol 69 was an official failure now.

 

Even though she had left, it didn’t improve the situation being left alone with his lecherous thoughts and her lingering perfume.

He tried to hide in his mind palace, but she was everywhere, in various states of undress and arousal.

The loud beep of his intercom pulled him out of his mind palace and with horror did he realize that he had pressed the button.

“Yes?”

 

Curse his brother, curse Ms. Hooper, curse his way too clever and beautiful assistant.

 

“ _Andrea_ …”

Curse his pathetic self.

“On my way.”

 

The line went dead, the door flew open and then, then he finally, oh god, he finally held her in his arms, and nothing was on his mind but her.

 

He whispered things against her warm, delicious skin, words of such sentiment and longing that she stopped their hasty discarding of clothes to carefully cup his face with both hands. Time stopped as she looked at him, her eyes wet but her lips smiling.

 

She kissed him then, ever so tender, and he finally understood why Sherlock was so happy.

 

Her kiss was home, safety…love.


End file.
